


And we'll be Drowning in a Sea of Gold

by Shigure_Natsu



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Action & Romance, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, courting, mermaid!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 06:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13071006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shigure_Natsu/pseuds/Shigure_Natsu
Summary: Damen knows someone has been watching him. Every year, when he comes to the beach, he feels eyes on him, sees gold and blues at the edge of his vision. A storm might be the push from fate he needs, to finally meet whoever has been watching over him for so long.





	And we'll be Drowning in a Sea of Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TellerOfTales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellerOfTales/gifts).



> For the [Captive Prince Secret Santa](http://capri-secretsanta.tumblr.com/), 2017 edition!
> 
> The prompt I decided to go with was: _"Young Damen met a merman once on a trip to the summer palace. Every year he hopes to see the pretty creature again. Mother Nature has had enough of his pining and a big storm washes his merman high on shore. Guess its up to Damen to nurse him back to health, in secret, away from nosy Nikandros."_  
>  Put my own little spin on it. I also managed to have everyone my giftee requested in there (Damen and Laurent of course, but also Nikandros, and a hint of Auguste) so I'm glad.
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful [Nya](http://madamesehun.tumblr.com/) for being my beta, and working on such short notice. I love you.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!

Damen is but fourteen when he first sees the creature. It’s just a flash of deep blue amongst more blue water, right at the corner of his eye, a reflection of the sun and a splash of the waves and then it’s gone, as if it had never been here. He spends the next few days climbing the rocks all around the Summer Palace, finding every little nook and cranny of thin white sand and looking out to the water that spreads before him, hoping, whishing, praying that that thing he saw the other day wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. He drives his father mad, going off on his own without an escort or even a warning, showing up as dusk breaks with an apologetic smile and sand clogging to his golden skin.

It becomes a habit, over the years. Every first day on his trips to the palace, he would go to that very same beach, and he would wait all day, his gaze fixated on the ocean roaring in front of him. Not even Nikandros would disturb him, though he would undoubtedly make fun of him once he comes back, tired and disappointed.

It’s not until he’s seventeen that he sees it again. It’s not exactly a glimpse then, but still, Damen isn’t sure it hasn’t just all been a dream. He’s on his traditional walk to the beach, the very first day he arrives, having barely settled in his chambers and already out the back door and running towards the ocean. The waves are licking at his ankles, and he’s letting the sun seep into his skin, eyes closed, filling his lungs with small breaths of air and holding them in until he feels like he’ll burst, slowly drifting off to sleep, lightheaded from what will soon turn into a heatstroke.

He doesn’t realize hours have passed until he feels something lift him up along the shore, away from the water grazing at his chin, hoping to drown him and have him join the other countless children in her midst, another tribute to the never-ending plane of blue danger.

Damen opens his eyes. But instead of the blue of the ocean, it’s his own reflection he finds in the two azure eyes, wide open, looking right back at him. For a moment, Damen can’t decide whether he’s facing a boy or a girl, long blond hair overflowing and blocking the sun from around them, traits as fine and delicate as if they were sculpted in marble. But when he makes to rise, the person flees. Not quickly enough, however, for Damen not to notice the deep blue tail cutting through the water as it disappears.

“The creatures from the legends, the ones that are half fish, do you think they exist?” he asks Nikandros at dinner that night, still shaken by that meeting on the beach.

His friend looks at him like he’s lost his mind. And maybe he has. “I told you not to stay in the sun for so long, _Damianos_. It is going to be the death of you.”

As retaliation, Damen flicks a grape at him, proud as a peacock when it hits his friend right between the eyebrows, drawing a grunt out of him. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

“Your question is stupid, Damen, hence why I didn’t answer it. But fine. I think some people claim to have met such creatures, but alas all those men are dead, or locked up because of their madness, and I do not wish either of those fates upon you. So now eat. And stop talking nonsense.”

Damen stops talking. However, he doesn’t stop going to the beach, doesn’t forget, even for a day during the next few weeks, the blond hair and the blue tail engraved in his mind like it was burnt there.

During the years that follow, Damen can’t help but feel like he’s being watched, every time he goes near the sea. But he only ever glimpses a soft shimmer, or hears the muffled sounds of swimming, and he can’t ever quite be sure of what he saw. Until that moment.

The next time they meet, Damen is twenty-five.

He’s sailing towards the palace, ideas of what he’ll do on his holidays floating around in his mind, blood thrumming through his veins as thoughts of the mysterious silhouette chase after the fantasies he’s been harboring of them meeting again. Kastor is managing the castle as the King of Akielos takes a much-needed break from the crowds and the castles and the council meetings. It has been three years since the coronation. Three years since his father’s death. He hasn’t had a single second for himself ever since, and he has abandoned the Summer Palace, each year spent away from it a deep blow in his heart and soul, shattering his hopes and dreams of a quiet beach, long blond hair and a scaly blue tail.

But finally Nikandros has managed to arrange for them to come back to his mother’s place, though Damen feels his heart ache with the thought that never again will he hear his father’s rumbling voice scolding him for running off on his own. He tries, in vain, not to let the memories affect him. But the wind is picking up, and soon his tears can pass off as foam rising along the sides of the ship, as salt stings his eyes, making them all the more watery.

They’re still some way from the palace when Damen hears the captain of the ship call all hands on deck, and he finally notices the black clouds coming in on the boat at full speed, galloping horses ready to run their poor craft down. Immediately, he’s by his men's side, tightening the ropes that need to be tightened, securing cargo and men alike, until only he, the captain and a couple of men remain, standing in the middle of the stern.

There is a crack, then. Lightning ripping through the dark sky, clattering all around them as rain starts pouring and the ship sways, waves no longer licking at its sides but engulfing the deck and all it supports. One strike. Two strikes. Damen is sent sprawling on the slippery surface as another wave hits the ship. He coughs out the water he has ingurgitated, but already another tide is upon him, bigger, harsher than any other before. He’s sent overboard before he has time to think, let alone scream for help. The stormy sea swallows him whole.

Drowning feels peaceful. Far more than he would have expected, at least. As he’s sinking, water crushing his body from all sides, he can barely hear a sound, or see the surface, and only blue, blue, blue everywhere. Blue like that tail he saw when he was fourteen.

Or at least that’s what he thinks, until finally all the oxygen has left his lungs, and he’s clutching at his throat, at his mouth, at the water above him and the surface that’s so far up ahead that even his powerful body would never make it, never breach the waters in time for him to stay alive. So he stays here, floating, sinking, feeling his heart slowly die down and the last remnants of courage and will he managed to muster leave his cold body. He closes his eyes, unmoving. But he could swear the last things he sees, in the midst of all this blue death, is a flash of gold.

*

He wakes up on a beach. Sprawled out on the sand, grey clouds over his head, soil under his hands, and air in his lungs, and for a moment he thinks he might still be dead, but maybe paradise is just a nice sea side view along the Akielon shores.

And then he feels the ache in his chest. He sits up, memories of his crash and near-death experience flooding him just like the storm had flooded his ship, and as he prays for the lives of his men, he remembers the reflection of gold he saw in the water, looking around for that same reflection to shine now. But there is nothing. Was there ever anything at all, really?

He's still having a hard time breathing, and his legs are shaking and his hands are bloody from scrapping on the sand and rocks, but he rights himself and is surprised to recognize his whereabouts. He managed to strand himself barely an hour’s walk from the Summer Palace. He has no doubts Nikandros will have no qualms hitting him over the head for being his usual stupid and self-sacrificing self, but right now all he can think about is that, by some miracle, he managed to make it out alive. He starts walking.

The palace is coming into view when he hears struggle on the beach down from where he stands. He can’t see what’s happening, but he hears grunts and hisses and so he steps down the narrow path as quick on his feet as they’ll let him, still wobbly from exhaustion and pain. He isn’t ready for the vision that hits him next.

Two Akielon soldiers are wrestling around in the sand, coughing and crying out in pain every time the person they’re trying to restrain attacks one of them but still plunging back into battle. It’s only then that Damen notices the one they’re fighting against isn’t human. He sees the blue sparkle, and he sees the golden hair, and then he’s running, and falling, and getting back up and running again to stop these people from hurting the creature any more than they already have. He runs and runs and runs. They stop before he even has to give any order, shocked to see their King here, of all places, and coming towards them with a haunted look in his eyes, bloody hands and his chiton torn to pieces. The creature keeps struggling, though, and it manages to evade its captors' grip, crawling towards the water like a beast gravely hurt. And suddenly Damen notices the blood flooding from its temple, and the piece of wood piercing its side, and he can no longer breathe.

He gets down on one knee, near that creature, that person, that… merman. And he looks at it, and the merman looks at him, and suddenly its eyes are wide open from what the King can only assume is shock to see him again, and it doesn’t know whether to go on towards its escape route or to stay put.  
Damen gestures towards it, tries to help by carrying it towards the ocean, but the merman hisses and flashes sharp fangs at him, so he withdraws. He can see the pain in its eyes though, the broken look of something that’s bleeding out, but whose determination is too strong to let that stop it.

“I just… I’m just trying to help you,” Damen starts, trying to convey reassurance as he extends his hand towards the poor fellow again, almost pleading.

The merman looks at him then, staring silently, with its piercing blue eyes as blood still drips from its wounds, staining the sand and what’s left of Damen’s chiton with crimson.

“By the gods,” Damen swears. “You have no idea what I’m saying, do you?”

So he tries for a more simplistic approach, pointing at himself, then at the merman, then at the sea, mimicking a carrying pose as best he can, clumsy and lost and still cold and bleeding. He even tries to throw in a hiss or two, hopefully managing to not insult the merman further in whatever language it is it speaks. At that, the merman smirks, mirthless and somehow quite scary.

“I speak your language better than you speak mine, sweetheart.”

And then it faints.

*

Damen can’t resign himself to just leaving it to its own devices. Instead, he tears out more pieces of his already destroyed chiton, and uses one to mop up the blood coating the merman’s face, and another to wrap an improvised bandage around its side, once he has carefully taken the wood splinter out. He picks it up in his arms then, weirded out by the stickiness on the arm holding the creature’s tail, his footing still not as assured as he wishes it was.

The soldiers are staring. Damen recognizes them as some of Nikandros’s men. One of them is named Pallas, a quite gifted kid. The other, he can’t remember. They have claw marks running along their skins and purple bruises slowly blooming after their altercation with the merman, but they’ll be fine. They are so stunned, however, that it takes them a moment to fall into a bow, head hung low.

“Exalted. We thought… we thought we might have lost you.”

Damen lets out a relieved sigh. “I take it my ship has arrived whole and safe, then. Good.”

He doesn’t waste any more time before he starts walking, heading to the palace once again. He can already see blood starting to stain the fabric he tightened around the merman’s side, and it has him more concerned than he would ever dare to voice out.

Pallas falls in line right behind him, but the other soldier is jittery. Damen thinks he might be called Elon, but he’s still in a daze, and his mind refuses to ascertain this fact. “Speak your mind.”

“I’m sorry, Exalted,” he says, and it’s clear he fears for his place when he talks again, hurried and so quiet Damen has to strain to hear him. “It’s just… I am worried about what you are doing with this creature. It attacked us, and seemed hostile. Are you sure it is reasonable to welcome it into our midst?”

Damen must refrain from snapping back at him. He’s tired and hungry and still in shock and wishes nothing more than to either ignore him or scream at him, but he is still the King and he did ask for the man to speak his mind, so he takes a second to compose himself and replies, gentle yet firm. “It is hurt and out of its usual environment. It can’t be blamed for lashing out at strangers, especially armed ones. Its injuries do seem quite deep and will need tending to, or would you have preferred I left it on that beach to die and be eaten by seagulls?”

The soldier says no more, hanging his head in apology.

Damen never imagined how hard it is, sneaking around in a place where everyone is looking for you, running around like a herd of headless chicken as from time to time orders are thrown around and search parties are being gathered all over. Thankfully, he has known the palace like the back of his hand since he was a child, and both he and the two soldiers take hidden passageways amongst the bushes and flowers until they’re inside a small, vacant building on the side of the main one.

But Damen doesn’t stop until he has crossed multiple hallways, until the footsteps echoing around him grow even more intense, only to be drowned by the sound of running water. The baths are as he remembers them, even twenty years later. They’ve been carefully tended to, and he’s thankful for that.  
He slowly lowers his fragile burden into the water, making sure the gills on its sides are submerged, but resting its head on the cold stone. It probably wouldn’t drown, but Damen can’t be sure of that. 

Behind him, Pallas finally speaks. “Exalted, are those…?” He trails off at the end, as if saying Damen’s mother’s name might break some spell, and cause everything to come tumbling down around them.

“Yes,” is the only answer he gets.

Her own private apartments. The Summer Palace was built for her, and everything here was to some extent hers, but this particular building is like an old shrine to her past glory. It hasn’t been occupied ever since she died, servants coming and going to make sure everything is still intact, but otherwise not daring to move even a vase in fear of disturbing his mother’s spirit, or maybe stain her memory. Damen isn’t quite sure.

“You will speak of this to no one,” he says then. “Not even Nikandros. You will protect this place and this person with your life, and only I or people that I have explicitly named will be authorized in these parts. Understood?”

A salute. A nod. Both soldiers set out towards the doors, starting on their duty immediately, as well as giving their King some privacy. Damen suspects that they might still be weirded out by the creature lying in the bath water, understandably so.

How to tell whether it is more man or fish? Its bottom half is a long scaly tail of various shades of blue, the end of it split in two like a dolphin’s, with fins just under the hips, right where the scales meet the skin. The top half, however... Damen has never cast his gaze on so beautiful a man ever before. All of his mates, and even his court, know he has a type. Blonde and blue-eyed Jokaste had been his type, when still thoughts of a crown on her head were the last things tying her to Damen. But the creature before him is a whole other level of beautiful.

The long strands of hair cascade on his forehead, around his shoulder and all along his back until they reach the water with a reflection of golden silk, and just as smooth to the touch. His skin is a pure, pearlescent white, his face sculpted from the finest marble, features sharp and slick but for his round lips. And behind the closed eyelids, behind the curtain of eyelashes, laid two eyes in which Damen was nearly drowning, for the second time today.

It matters not whether he is human or not, for Damen cannot strain his gaze away from him, not until a drop of red makes contact with his own skin, jolting him out of his trance-like state. The merman’s forehead is still bleeding. Damen curses.

He decides to unwrap the rest of the devastated chiton from around his hips, slowly hacking away at it, cutting bits and pieces and plunging one of them in the bath water until it’s soaked. He then applies pressure to the open wound, hoping to stop the hemorrhage before it worsens. As he does so, he slowly unwinds his makeshift bandage from the other hole he patched up earlier, ready to put it back into place as soon as the smallest amount of crimson exudes from it. Thankfully, the bleeding seems to have stopped, for no color starts running around the man’s immerged body.

Damen waits a few minutes before he lifts his hand holding the wet rag from the merman’s temple. When he does, it seems what looked like a hole has now morphed into barely a scratch. His eyes widen. He is so tired. He could very well be imagining things.

He has no idea what more to do then, so he looks at the creature one last time, and gets up and out of the bath. Before he can take a step further, he feels cold fingers circling his ankle, and he looks down, shocked to see the merman opening his eyes, ever so slightly, still looking feverish but very much alive.

The creature tries to say something, his mouth opening and closing on a cough, his whole body shaking with the force of it, and Damen crawls back down, tries to hold him and help him up as best he can, lest he fell further into the pool and hit his head. “Everything is fine. You are safe.”

The merman trashes at that, but force leaves him quickly and he just sags, forehead resting along the marble floor, harsh breath escaping his lips. “I am trying to help you," Damen tries again.

He isn’t sure his attempt at reassurance hits home. He can still hear panic in the merman’s tremulous voice when he asks, “Where am I? Who are you?”.

But his consciousness is slipping, in and out and in again, eyes rolling back into their sockets, chest heaving, and Damen doesn’t quite know how to quickly explain the first part, so he only supplies his name. “I am Damianos of Akielos.”

The merman’s nod is more of an involuntary jerk, and once again Damen has to hold him, snaking a hand behind his neck to make sure he won’t break it in a fit of uncontrolled gestures. A whisper, and then he’s gone.

“Laurent.”

*

Laurent. As he makes his way back to the main building, clothed again thanks to some garments Elon fetched for him, Damen thinks of the single word the merman said before passing out. He can only assume it is his name, for they do have Laurents on soil too, and he would not be surprised to learn they have more in common with merfolks than they ever could have guessed. After all, they do speak Akielon.

He let Pallas and the other soldier to tend to the merman. To Laurent. Anything he wishes for, for comfort or food. Any supplies he might need. He told them to warn him as soon as he wakes up next, or if any of his wounds start bleeding again, or if they ever have any concern regarding his well-being. Damen might be slightly overreacting, but he is ready to bet his favorite horse that this merman saved his life today, as he had done years ago, and he won’t allow himself to not return the courtesy.

Damen is engulfed in warmth and muscles as soon as he steps foot inside the main hall. He freezes for a moment, but the touch is familiar, and soon he returns the affection, letting his knees collapse for even just a second, as the person hugging him is left to carry his weight.

“I feared I might have lost you today.” Nikandros’s words are but a whisper, and Damen feels the weight of today’s events come crashing down on him as he says them, making him sway and breathe a little harder in the embrace, his instincts kicking in hours too late.

Then Nikandros is drawing back, and pushing his shoulders with both a wobbling smile and a frown on his face, and Damen is back to the present, back to life, escaping the feeling of water shattering his ribs and drowning his lungs and killing him, again and again and again.

“It was really stupid, what you did there. Stupider than usual. The crew has already gotten an earful – what with letting their king be secured last – but you, Damianos, are not going to get off the hook that easily.”

Damen cringes, but says nothing. He knows his friend is right, knows he foolishly put his life in danger today, but he can’t come to regret it. Not when all the crew managed to make it out safely. Not when he survived, nonetheless. Not when it meant he was finally able to meet the person he’d been searching after for more than a decade now.

“Come. Everyone has been waiting on you. They will be ecstatic to know they won’t have to plan another coronation so soon,” Nikandros jokes, and Damen lets himself be guided towards the banquet hall, exhausted but glad to be back, at last.

*

He is woken in the middle of the night by a shake of his shoulder. He grunts, grumbles, struggles to get back under the covers, to no avail. He wakes up entirely, however, when the words “merman” make it past his hazy brain, and he opens his eyes to find Elon, standing by his bed, his arms crossed but his expression composed and calm. “The merman has woken, Exalted,” he says again, for what must probably be the tenth time, judging by the small sigh he adds to punctuate the statement.

They silently make their way towards the private apartments, and to the baths inside. And indeed, Laurent is awake, albeit still a bit groggy. He rises as soon as he sees Damen enter, and this draws a small smile out of Damen, a smile that leaves his lips as he is met with the merman’s thunderous glare and sharp teeth, a hiss escaping his lips. Damen stops.

“What have you done to me?”

The words are slurred and strangely deformed by the pointy teeth, almost a lisp, but Damen can’t bring himself to make fun of the merman right now. He is confused. “I merely tried to help. I’m sorry if I have offended you. I saw the shard in your side and the blood on your face, and I couldn’t leave you to die out there.”

“I am awake. I am well. Why am I still here? What do you want from me?”

It’s the tinge of panic and fear in the merman’s voice that gets most to Damen, fumbling and looking away, unsure what to say, what to do, when all he wanted was to save the person who saved him. “Nothing. I… I just really wanted to help.”

Instead of placating Laurent, this answer just makes him trash around more, his tail raising waves from the calm bath waters. “Prove you have no ill intentions. Release me at once.” As he says it, the merman slaps his tail on the water surface, a gesture meant to be intimidating, but reduced to a poor attempt at authority as a moan escapes him next, and his hand comes to his side, emerging covered in fresh blood.

Damen rushes to his side, on his knees, but the sudden movement has Laurent drawing back and hissing again, so he stops and even scoots away from the pool with a placating show of hands. “Forgive me. But you shouldn’t move around so much. Your wounds ran deep, and they might reopen if you are not careful.”

This, at least, does not get him a hiss. Merely a grunt, and a grimace, and then the merman’s face seems to settle in a mask, cold and unmoving, and he rises his gaze to meet Damen’s again, to speak to him in that rumbly voice, like crashing waves and deep waters. “Fine. I will stay. But as soon as I am well, you will release me.” It isn’t a question. It is an order. 

It’s so strange for Damen to imagine this bold merman hiding behind rocks to spy on him a few years ago, not daring to come close or be seen even when he had dragged Damen out of the water for fear he might drown. He is glorious now, proud and fearless and ready to murder anyone who crosses him.  
Or so it seems, Damen thinks as he goes back to sleep, cold blue eyes and silky golden hair haunting his dreams.

*

The next few days go by in a blur.

In the mornings he trains with his soldiers, comforted in the familiar aches in his joints and muscles after hours of straining them, rolling around in the dirt, fighting sometimes with his sword, sometimes with his bare hands, letting the high of it get to his head until there isn’t a thought crossing his mind except the simple want to wrestle.

In the afternoons he rides around with Nikandros, visiting old and new sites, rekindling with the lost memories of his childhood and making new ones, the sea salt and the smell of orchards mingling until he could swear he’s in paradise, no longer the King of anything, let alone responsible for an entire people.

But during the nights, he visits Laurent. Their first conversations are tentative. Damen mostly talks to himself, recounting the places he visited that day, the animals and the plants he saw, trying to get the merman to ask questions. Often, he’s met with silence. Or sometimes a grunt or two.

It’s on the fifth day of Laurent’s recovery, when Damen brings him fish to eat and lets Elon off the hook for a few hours, enough for him to get Pallas and go to sleep, that he finally addresses the thoughts that have been stirring in his mind, unsure whether bringing them up might break the truce they had settled on.

“Eleven years,” he says, a sigh escaping his lips as he watches Laurent, and the gap in his side that still hasn’t closed enough for him to move much beside going back and forth in circles in the small bath.

The merman turns his head at that, faint surprise crossing his face before it settles once again in an apathetic mask. “What?” he asks, the silence stretching after Damen’s statement, somehow unsettling.

“Eleven years since I saw you for the first time, and yet it seems like I do not know you at all.”

At that, shock clearly paints itself on Laurent’s feature, and stays there. He opens his mouth once, twice, trying to speak, but no words come out. He plunges into the pool fully, submerging his entire being, bubbles poking at the surface as he gathers his thoughts, only to emerge a minute or two later. An eternity to Damen.

“You knew?” Is all he says.

Damen smiles. “You are not as smooth as you wish you were. And I did see you clearly, that time, at the beach.”

Red rises on Laurent’s cheek, but he replies, petulant. “I thought the sun might have gotten to your head after spending so long bathing in it.”

This is new. So new, in fact, that for a moment Damen doesn’t know what to say. And then he’s bursting with laughter, eyes closing, chest shaking. He heaves. “I am tougher than that.”

“This I’ve come to gather for myself, yes.”

It is almost a compliment. Not quite. But Damen will take what he can get. He’s delighted to see the merman opening up. He sits down, legs dangling in the water, a few feet away from Laurent, but not too far that he can’t see the shift in his eyes when the merman notices the change of position. It feels intimate, somehow. To be back in the water. Damen can’t bring himself to get fully immerged in it though. He hasn’t been able to, since that fateful night on the ship. As soon as water comes to his waist, he panics. He’s ashamed to admit it, but he thinks it’ll be a long time before he can properly swim again.

He closes his eyes. This is not the time to dwell on his feelings. He came for a reason, after all. “You saved my life twice already. I wanted to thank you for that. For you to know that your kindness has not be forgotten, and that I plan to repay you, in any way I can. Any way you see fit. So for now, please let me take care of you.” 

It sounds almost like a confession, whisper echoing onto the marble. Laurent doesn’t answer. But he nods.

*

After that, it feels as if Laurent isn’t as guarded anymore. He’s still moody, still snarky, still everything he was and more, but the edge that clang to him like a second skin has disappeared. They talk. A little bit about Laurent, about what it is like under the sea. Damen learns he has an older brother, who was cast away for years and got back recently, and also not quite a little brother, who seems nightmarish enough that Damen never ever wants to meet him. They talk about Damen too. Mostly about Damen. About the memories he has there, with his father, and a bit with his mother. With Kastor and Nikandros, ever at his side.

Damen does regular check-ups of the wound, now that he has Laurent’s permission to approach him. It’s closing, slowly but surely. Faster than a normal human wound this size would heal, too. Damen suspects it has something to do with the water, but he doesn’t probe.

Today the wound is mostly a pale pink, stark against the contrast of Laurent’s white skin, but not as colorful as it was when it gushed rivers of blood the color of the inside of the gills right above it. Every time Damen gets a close look at them, he startles. They are much like a fish’s, so it is very strange to see them placed on a very human body, wearing very human skin. Of course, there is the tail, but sometimes it is easy to forget it’s even there, mostly hidden by water. Ever since he carried Laurent here, Damen has but once touched the surface of it, and its cold smooth feel has made him jolt away, convinced he was intruding on something sacred. He has been careful not to touch it ever since.

“Looks good,” he says, once he’s done with his inspection. “Soon, you’ll be able to move freely again. If you feel up to it, I could even bring you to the beach today.”

Silence. Laurent tries to move his tail around, and Damen watches, fascinated, as it reflects the torches' light. Then the merman hisses, and shakes his head. “I’m not ready yet. Looks like you will have to accommodate my presence for a few days more.”

“It is no problem, don’t worry.”

“And yet I feel like your dirty little secret. There are guards around me all day, and you only sneak out here at night. And while I appreciate you keeping my existence quiet, I cannot help but think it is not only for my sake that you do it.” Laurent snickers, and Damen isn’t sure whether he’s joking or truly mad about this. 

He goes for honesty, since it has been the best path to tread with Laurent ever since he came into his life. “It is true. I’m hiding you. There are a lot of people in this place, none that believe creatures like you exist, and it will do well to stay this way. I would get in trouble for harboring you. And you would get into even more trouble for being here.”

“Well, don’t these people seem lovely,” Laurent sneers.

Damen doesn’t know what to reply to that. He isn’t sure why he hasn’t told Nikandros about Laurent. Maybe it dates back to all those years ago, when he called him mad behind a fine veil of sarcasm. Maybe it’s because he wants to keep Laurent’s existence all to himself. He ponders over it for a moment, and decides that it matters not, for soon Laurent will be released to the sea, and Damen will never hear from him again. Strangely, his heart aches at the thought.

*

“You’re royalty. Why didn’t you tell me you were royalty!”

This is how Laurent greets him the next day. He looks both mad and amused, a frown on his brow but a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, throwing a rag he found lying around in Damen’s face as revenge. Damen stops. “I thought you knew!”

He really did. What with ordering around his soldiers, and the pin on his shoulder, and the fact that he can come and go everywhere without anyone asking questions? But Laurent is from another world entirely, and maybe none of this rings a bell with him.

Damen finds it truly hilarious to see the merman flail over such a matter, and watches as Laurent continues pacing - or more like swimming – around the pool, talking half to himself, half to his guest. “I didn’t. But everything makes so much more sense now. Everything you told me, the way you act, the way they act, everything makes sense. I am actually worried about the state of my head for not thinking of such a thing earlier.”

“Don’t worry about your head, it’s quite alright. Your temple healed days ago.”

Laurent makes a face, and Damen is pretty sure the gesture he makes with his tail is a rude one, and he laughs at that, startled by the easiness with which Laurent moves and talks and acts now, when he looked so subdued and antipathic last week. Damen has learned since then that what he took as fearlessness was just a mere defense mechanism, and that Laurent had, in fact, been scared out of his mind. Damen is glad that now, he seems anything but.

“How did you come by this information, may I ask?”

“I talked to your guards, that’s what I did.”

The reply comes as a surprise, though it probably shouldn’t. Laurent has been stuck in this place for days now, with only one or two books Damen smuggled in here, belonging to his very own collection. Laurent has managed to retain them superbly dry, which is a feat in itself, considering how close to the edge of the pool they were, and that he is, after all, a merman.

“Don’t look at me like that. I was bored out of my mind, and this Pallas seemed amiable enough, so I questioned him. For information. Which I was very right to do, since he told me everything about you being a King and all.”

“Next time I will make sure to gag him, then. I wouldn’t want any embarrassing stories about me to reach your ears.”

This, out of all the stupid things Damen had said over the course of the last few days, is what gets a laugh out of Laurent. Damen is so startled by it that he can only stare, gaping, as tears pool around Laurent’s eyes and his laugh softly echoes on the walls around them, as clear as the sound of the waves crashing on the shore not far from here.

He stops suddenly, red spreading on his pale cheeks. Damen smiles at him, trying to convey the pleasure he felt at hearing such a genuine display of emotion from him, feeling blessed to be trusted enough to see this side of Laurent, one he suspects not many have been privy to. Laurent is a superposition of layers, each one more intricate than the previous, and Damen feels as if he’ll never reach his core, no matter how long he tries. It is both fascinating and upsetting.

When they part that night, a soft goodnight escaping Damen’s lips, he’s surprised to hear Laurent answer in kind, a full-blown smile on his lips.

*

He has just come back from his afternoon ride with Nikandros the next day, and barely finished caring for his horse when his best friend joins him, a grin on his lips.

“What?” Damen asks, suspicious.

Nikandros raises his hands in a placating gesture, though his smirk never quite leaves his face. “Nothing.”

Damen stares. And stares. Finally, Nikandros abdicates. “It’s just, you have been sneaking around a lot lately. And you’ve been acting shifty. Which is a behavior I recognize all too well. So… who is the lucky bastard?”

Damen freezes. Shit. And here he thought he managed to stay hidden from view well enough. But Nikandros’s observation skills were to be reckoned with. How could he forget that?

He has stayed silent for too long, however, because suddenly Nikandros isn’t smiling anymore, and looks far more worried. There is a crease between his brows. That’s never a good sign. “You’re hiding something from me.”

“No, of course not,” Damen jumps to stop him from turning around and tries for a smile, but it falls short in front of Nik’s scowl.

“You are. I know you better than you do yourself. Damianos, you will tell me what is going on, or I swear to the gods, King or not, I will kick your ass.”

Damen fidgets. He doesn’t want to tell Nikandros about Laurent. Doesn’t want him finding out about this private part of his life he’s been cherishing for fear it will suddenly be taken away from him. But at last, faced with his best friend’s wrath and the worry he can read deep in his eyes, he relents. “Someone got hurt, the day I came here. I merely tried to take care of them.”

“And you didn’t inform me about any of this because…?”

“Because I thought it best not to let their presence be known by anyone but me and the soldiers that found him.”

“So that’s why Pallas and Elon haven’t been around as much,” Nikandros mutters. When he looks at Damen again, his anger hasn’t settled down. It even seems to have flared up, and Damen isn’t really sure why. But he is suddenly very adamant not to let Nikandros anywhere near Laurent in this state of being.

“Where are they?”

Damen tries to dodge the question. “It isn’t much, really. I was just making sure they were well rested, but they will be on their way soon, I promise.”

“Where. Are. They? Don’t make me ask a third time, Damen.”

But Damen stands his ground, sealing his lips and crossing his arms. He’s taller than Nikandros, not by much, but it’s enough to make him feel like he has the higher ground here. Like he is in the right. He knows he is.

Nikandros sighs, and turns around. Damen thinks it’s the end of that, but he couldn’t be more mistaken, for when Nikandros glances back his way, already moving out of the stables, he says, “You know what, I don’t even need you to tell me where they are. I think I know.”

Damen runs. Catches up to Nikandros in no time. Grabs on his arm, trying to make him turn around. But his friend forges on, ignoring him, ignoring the pleas for him to stop, to wait, to just listen to him. To not shatter this perfect bubble of peace Damen made for himself in the past few days.

They pass the main entrance of his mother’s apartments, and then they run through Pallas, who blanches when he recognizes Nikandros’s thunderous expression. He immediately steps away from the door.

And then they’re in the baths. Laurent is facing away from them, head hung over one of the new books Damen got for him, one about the tales and legends of Akielos, letting his finger trail over the words and the illustrations. Damen can make out a smile on his lips.

“Who are you?”

Laurent jumps at that, the new, booming voice startling him out of his reading trance. He makes an aborted move to hide, to get away, only to be blocked by the wall behind him, his tail furiously splashing around in his desire to swim out of these dangerous waters he suddenly finds himself in.

“What…” Nikandros’s voice trails away, his gaze never leaving the blue scaled appendage as it trashes and splashes and waves around in erratic patterns. He turns to Damen, mouth parted slightly, recognition on his features. Nikandros storms out.

Damen follows him through multiple doorways, to a hall at the heart of the residence. He feels guilty for letting Laurent alone after such a surprising display, but he must settle this before worse comes to worst.

“What is he?” Nikandros asks, and his voice is full of disbelief, yes, but it is also still very much rippling with untethered wrath, and Damen must force himself to stay calm and not scream himself.

“A merman, by all accounts. This is the person I was talking about.”

“I figured! And what, you’ve been harboring him here since you came back? In your mother’s bath? Like a broken puppy you need to nurse back to health?”

Damen doesn’t like the comparison. Laurent is so far from a puppy it’s almost laughable, and he has only been hiding him because Laurent asked him to. And because he feared Nikandros's reaction, as he should have, proven again by the events unfolding right this moment.

“As a matter of fact, I have, yes.” If he sounds petulant, then he has no one to blame but his hard-headed best friend.

“Who’s to say he wasn’t using you for his own benefit? Gathering information about you so that he may attack gods know when?”

“He isn’t like that!”

“How do you know?!” Nikandros is pacing now, and he throws his arms in the air, his voice going high as Damen’s words put him more on edge each passing second.

“I just know, is all. I trust him.”

“Damen, you can’t trust every stranger you come across! He could have so easily killed you, it’s insane!”

He’s just screaming now. As if Damen was an idiot who will give shelter to the first person that pretends to be hurt just so they can stab him in the back more easily. As if, after all these years, after three years of being King, he hasn’t come to term with the fact that not every person in this country is a decent human being. As if he’s still the naïve child he used to be. So he screams, too. “He saved my life! Twice!”

“What do you mean twice?” 

This seems to give Nikandros a pause. He has lowered his voice, and Damen decides to give him, if not the details, the gist of what happened. The brief summary of what his and Laurent’s relationship is. “He… you remember how I used to sneak off to the beach alone most of the time? That was because I saw him there, the first time. And that day I asked you about the legends? He prevented me from drowning because I fell asleep. And last week, he was the one that got me out of the water, Nik. He’s the only reason I’m alive today to argue with you.”

Nikandros pauses for a long moment. He walks in circles, the hall silent but for the sound of his feet echoing on the marble, making Damen want to scream, to fight, to make him understand how good Laurent has been to him, how kind of a person he is. But he keeps silent. Knowing Nikandros, admitting his infatuation for the merman would only serve to anger him more.

“Well then, I guess I should at least thank him for bringing you back alive, you and all your idiotic glory.”

Damen rolls his eyes. Nikandros really isn’t one for admitting defeat, is he?

When they reach the baths once again, Laurent is gone.

To say that Damen panics is an understatement. He loses his mind, is what happens. He searches around the whole house looking for the merman, tries to follow the small puddle of water to locate his hiding place. In vain. He calls his name, in vain again. Nikandros is looking at him like he has gone mad, and maybe he has.

He sits, dejected, on the bath stairs. Gazes at the books left open on the floor. Laurent is gone. And he isn’t coming back.

*

“We must leave, Damen.”

It is but the next day, and Damen has been staring at the ocean for hours now. It’s like his feet are glued to the sand, like he has become one with the beach. He hasn’t moved since the sun rose on the horizon, his heart flaring every time he caught sight of a strange reflection on the waves, only to be disappointed when the foam glistened at him.

If Nikandros hadn’t been there, jostling him, he might’ve howled at the sun. For he received a letter late in the night, of Kastor pleading him to come back, for his people is starting to grow restless and the council has asked for nothing but his return date.

Yet here he stands, sun glistening on his tanned skin, eyes squinting at the sea like somehow, it might part and show him the path to Laurent. Like the last two weeks weren’t just a figment of his imagination, wishful thinking turned into actual events. For if Laurent abandons him now, he feels like he might never able to be whole again.

“Damen,” Nikandros says again, pushing at his shoulder.

He gets on his horse, and they start riding towards Ios, but not without Damen glancing at the water one last time, hoping that amongst the waves, he will notice a flash of gold.

*

They go back to the Summer Palace the next summer. Damen has spent his year in Ios running around to various events, escaping murder attempts, and negotiating peace treaties with Patras. It has been an exhausting three hundred and thirty-five days, to say the least. And yet, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Laurent for one day. What happened to him? Did Damen say or do anything to displease him? Was it Nikandros? But most importantly, is he alright? Those thoughts have been running wild around his head for too long now, and they’re only exacerbated once they finally reach the Summer Palace, late in the morning.

But this time, he does not descend on the beach on the first occasion he finds. He’s feeling antsy about it, like a spider crawling on his back, its legs sending tendrils of guilt and worry into every one of his muscles. Sure, he watches over the waves more often than would seem totally appropriate, and Nikandros has been giving him the stink eye for ten minutes now, but he still cannot bring himself to act on it, to travel the stone path and the stairs and stick his naked feet into the sand, one at a time, until water grazes his ankles. Instead, he sulks in the gardens all day.

There is someone running towards him. Damen can hear the footsteps echoing on the ground, as he’s still seated near his mother’s statue, flowering branches covering him from the outside world, the night blanketing his world as if to put him to sleep.

Pallas appears around the corner, breath wild and eyes wide. Damen freezes. “Exalted. You… you should probably come and see. At the gate.”

The words are barely out of the soldier’s mouth when Damen starts running. He’s running so fast he nearly trips over his own feet, so fast he pushes staff out of his way, so fast he can no longer hear Pallas on his heels. So fast he reaches the gate out of breath, only to have it still swiped under him by the vision that greets him.

Nikandros is standing on the side, as shell-shocked as Damen feels. And there, on the main road, stands Laurent. He’s wrapped in a cloak hiding most of his body, but Damen can make out two legs from underneath the garment, and he can’t quite make his brain work around the idea, of Laurent having legs to walk on and not a mermaid tail. But his face. Oh, his face. If Damen had thought he could remember it so perfectly, vivid image of Laurent’s high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes, well, he had definitely been wrong. It seems like a year away from someone makes for a reunion more intense that the last, and he can’t quite decide whether he wants to take Laurent in his arms or kneel at his feet.

He does none of that, but makes an aborted step into Laurent’s direction, already reaching out. “Laure…”

The name is dripping off the edge of his lips, but Laurent shushes him with a quick draw of a finger on his full lips, his eye moving towards the assembly of people that have gathered around them. Instead, he steps ahead, and, with a wide gesture of his arm, he talks. “My name is Laurent. I am a mere traveler, seeking the comfort of a place to stay for the night, as my brother and I rest from our tiring journey. Please, King Damianos, will you accept us?”

It’s then that Damen notices the small shape clutching Laurent’s cloak, hiding behind his back. It isn’t that small, in fact, but compared to Laurent, and even more to Damen, it remains of a very average size. The child – or should he say young man? – has eyes just as blue as Laurent’s, wearing matching jewelry, and contrasting brown hair. The fire that burns down Damen’s spine at that nearly makes him pull a face. This, he is sure of it, is Nicaise.

He’s been so engrossed in scrutinizing the two visitors that Nikandros must clear his throat. The question comes back to him, and Damen answers in a polite but eager fashion, motioning the guests to follow him.

Damen wants for nothing more than a moment in private with Laurent, to talk to him. But they need to get settled, and his staff is already all over them, and he suddenly feels very out of place, a giant unmoving in the middle of so many people swarming to accommodate the strangers. So he goes outside. And waits.

Laurent comes to him a half-hour later, a small sigh escaping his lips as he makes his way through the bushes, absorbing the smells and sounds of the nature around them. He looks so beautiful in the moonlight, Damen could cry.

There is only silence, for some time. Damen looks at Laurent and Laurent looks at Damen and not a word is exchanged, yet they both feel as if their eyes say it all. How much they missed each other. How they’re happy to meet again.

It’s Laurent who breaks the silence first. “I have been waiting for two weeks now, for you to show up again. Every day I burnt my skin sitting on one of those rocks, hoping to catch sight either of a ship or a convoy.”

“The sentiment is appreciated,” Damen replies, smirking nonetheless at Laurent’s dramatics. And then, because he feels his retort lacks heart, he adds, “I am very glad you’re here today. Though I must say, I have no idea by which magic you are suddenly able to walk.”

It’s Laurent’s turn to smirk, and for a moment he just watches Damen like he’s waiting on him to figure it out, but Damen just stares back, utterly at a loss. He is convinced those are the same legs that allowed Laurent to escape so quickly on the day he last saw him, but he still doesn’t understand why he has them in the first place.

“No matter how interesting your legends are, especially on merfolk, they lack a cruel amount of information. For we are not simply creatures stuck in this form for our whole lives. We are shapeshifters, able to turn in a second into the shape most fitting to our experiences. Though, I must admit, it does get hindered with illness or wounds, or any such conditions.”

“So you couldn’t turn when I found you, or when you were in the baths, until…”

“Until I was well again,” Laurent filled in for him. “And your friend came running and scared the living hell out of me. My escape was far from gracious, and sneaking out of here naked and on legs warry from disuse was a challenge in itself, but I managed.”

Damen chuckles when his imagination supplies a vivid rendition of a very naked Laurent, hiding in the bushes all around the property, trying to find his way back to the sea. But then his heart sinks, remembering that day. “I thought something might have happened to you. I searched for you.”

Laurent’s own smile falters at the words, and Damen would curse himself for putting that expression on his face, but he can’t help the way he felt that day, and he promised himself to be as honest with Laurent as he could.

“I am so very sorry. I would have left a note, but had nothing to do so. And back in the ocean, Auguste just wouldn’t let me out of his sight.”

Damen nods. He understands. It doesn’t make it hurt less, but it is a reminder that Laurent never meant to hurt him, that he didn’t do anything wrong.

“I had disappeared for more than a week, after all,” Laurent keeps on talking, picking up his theatrics from earlier. “My brother sent the whole guard out to find me.”

“Well, that explains why you did not come back the next day.”

“You waited for me?” Laurent seems so fragile, so hopeful, and Damen cannot help but nod, the “Of course” evident in his smile. Then, he stops.

“Wait, the guard?”

“I… might have omitted the fact that Auguste is King in our kingdom?”

“You’re royalty. Of course you’re royalty.” Damen slumps down against a tree, closing his eyes and sighing, not quite as surprised by the revelation as he ought to be. “I feel like we've had this conversation before.”

When he opens his eyes, Laurent is smirking, and Damen wants far too much to wipe the expression off his face with a kiss. Instead, he settles for, “Only it was the other way around”, making Laurent snicker.

Laurent is laughing, and it is like not a day has passed since he was here, in the baths, bantering with Damen – who wants very much to kiss him still. He doesn’t, though. Not yet. It feels too soon, right after their reunion, especially now that they have finally gained equal footing. Damen wants to let this relationship blossom, to court Laurent like he would if he were any other person from his people. To see if his affections are returned, as he hopes they will be.

They talk well into the night, each of them recounting anecdotes of the past year to the other. Laurent nearly chokes on his own spit when Damen tells him about the time he was stabbed between his ribs seven months ago. He won’t rest assured Damen is fine until he sees the scar, sees for a fact that it never reached its target, no matter how silly it may seem. Damen feels very naked, when Laurent’s fingers touch around the scar tissue, delicate and oh so light.

He accompanies Laurent back to his room as the moon waxes high in the sky, feeling drained but happier than he has been for months now. Happiness quickly soured when he is met with Nicaise’s hard glare. It seems like he was waiting for Laurent to return, a fork in hand, and Damen swallows, because the adolescent looks murderous and he does not want to be on the receiving hand of one of his blows. Thankfully, Laurent makes a gesture for him to go to bed, teasing him with words Damen can’t hear. 

He thinks it’s the end of it, getting ready to turn on his heels and join his own bed, but Laurent comes back to the doorway and leans on it, the fabric on his back slipping ever so slightly, revealing a pale shoulder. Damen doesn’t know why, out of all the times he’s seen Laurent, sometimes far more naked than he is this instant, this is what makes a blush creep on his cheeks, but he has to force himself to gulp.

“I’m sorry.”

Damen jumps, startled. He focuses his gaze back towards Laurent’s face, hoping he didn’t notice he was distracted. “What?” he squeaks.

It’s so pathetic and obvious he wants to strangle himself, but Laurent simply softly chuckles, and now Damen wants to hide behind a pillar, out of mortification, because it does things to his body it probably shouldn’t do. “About Nicaise. He is… intense. And overly protective of me. He wanted to come with, to make sure I was alright, didn’t get kidnapped, or anything. I couldn’t refuse.”

“It’s fine,” Damen assures, and it really is, no matter how much the kid gives him the creeps. “I can understand where he is coming from. It’s just… with everything you have told me about him, he does unsettle me a bit. I wouldn’t want to end up alone with him.”

Laurent chuckles some more, and now Damen is having an issue. He thanks the gods for the darkness surrounding them, the only light coming from a lamp inside Laurent’s room.

“I will make sure it doesn’t happen, I promise.” The smirk on his face says that he’d be all too pleased to leave Damen to fend for himself in front of a sixteen-year-old, but he doesn’t confess so, and Damen doesn’t rise to the bet, too tired for a witty retort.

“Well, I guess I will see you tomorrow then. Goodnight, Laurent.”

He’s withdrawing, away and off towards his own chambers, when Laurent’s words catch him on his way. “Goodnight, _Damianos_.”

He needs a bath. A cold one, preferably.

*

Laurent stays. No one asks why, though they do notice the easy connection between their King and the stranger, and rumors might soon come flying around.

Damen’s first gift – if it can even be called a gift – is an extravagant breakfast. He would never admit to having run off to the kitchen early in the morning, asking for sweetmeats and fish, although he might have done exactly that. When Laurent joins him at the table and his mouth drops at the array of trays spread out before him, Damen feels pride seep in his veins. Then he sees Nicaise, and if his smile droops a bit, well, he cannot be blamed. 

They try to talk, but the boy seems dead set on preventing any interaction between them, still holding a fork threateningly in Damen’s direction – why a fork? Why not a knife? And more importantly, why is Damen scared about that? – and glaring at him. Damen leaves breakfast frustrated, but it only serves to exacerbate his want to do right by Laurent.

His second gift, which is still not much of one, is to give Laurent the books he had offered him last year. They’re neatly packed in silk fabric, and Damen deposits them on Laurent’s bed right before he goes for a hunt with some of his soldiers and Nikandros, as Laurent and Nicaise are visiting the surroundings of the palace.

When he comes back, a note is waiting for him. “Thank you for the books. Nicaise wanted to throw them in the fire, but as it so happens, I might have grown attached to them. He softened once I read him a tale or two. He might pretend not to be a child anymore, but stories tend to always have that effect on him.”.

Damen knows what makes him unable to get mad at Nicaise is Laurent’s love for the boy. He doesn’t know what happened between them – he's only had glimpses and pieces strewn across Laurent’s recounting of his life under the sea – but he recognizes such affection when he sees it. If any of Nicaise’s bravado is to be considered, then it is greatly reciprocated.

His third gift is a tad subtler. It is also his first actual gift. Damen realized Laurent wouldn’t be able to take the books with him when he goes back to the sea, and he sets to find something that will last, no matter whether it remains on land or underwater. He must do some digging around, ask a few experts here and there, whose letters take days to come back, and then he has to hire the artisan, wait for the materials to arrive, and let them do their jobs.

He takes those days to show Laurent around more than just the few orchards surrounding the main grounds. Nicaise comes with, most of the time, which means the journeys are full of platitudes and various stages of glaring every time Damen so much as glances Laurent’s way, but they’re fun nonetheless, and worth it if only to see Laurent’s pure awe at some of the flowers and animals Damen shows him, or to finally have Nicaise smile, when he spots a snake quickly slithering between rocks on their path.

“My brother…” Laurent starts, and Damen slows his horse down to rest by his side. Teaching these two to maneuver the big beasts had been a feat in itself, but Damen will always fondly remember the determination in both their jaws when they fell and swayed and fell again, only to climb back on their saddles. “Auguste. He travelled a lot in your world when I was younger. He actually got stuck there, for quite many years. He used to tell me all about it after he came back, all about this. It’s so strange, to be able to see it for myself now.”

Damen is about to reply when, behind them, Nicaise snickers, “Yeah, like getting all mudded up and smelling like those foul beasts is anything to dream about!” The dimple made by his smile says otherwise, though.

“Thank you,” Laurent mouths, and Damen is all too keen to reply with a smile and a “You’re welcome”.

*

Once the gift arrives, he is so ecstatic he can nearly feel himself vibrate out of his skin. It is everything he wanted and more, and he only hopes Laurent will love it as much as he does, if not more.

Damen wants to run to him right this second, to thrust the gift at him, and eagerly wait for his reaction, but he also wants to do things right. So instead, he writes a short note to Laurent, asking if he would join him on the beach once the stars are high in the sky. He sends Elon to deliver the note. Then he waits.

Once the sky is dark as ink, with small dots of light scattered amongst it, he wraps the gift back up and sets off for the shore. As he descends the stone stairs, he can see Laurent’s silhouette in the sand. He’s standing there, unmoving, his gaze turned towards the ocean. He wonders if Laurent aches for it as much as Damen aches for him.

“You’re here early.”

“I am never one to leave a rendez-vous hanging,” Laurent scoffs, mildly offended by the assumption that he would ever be late.

He smiles, soft and clear. And Damen’s heart does that thing again, when it both collapses on itself and does a somersault at the same time. This time he isn’t sure a cold bath can save him. “We should sit,” he says, abrupt, trying to find something, anything to fill the silence that isn’t going to embarrass him more than he is willing to, at least before he has made his offering.

So he does. And Laurent does too. They’re sitting so close their knees are touching, soft heat going from one to the other, making all of Damen’s skin tingle. Or maybe it’s the cold. He should probably have worn more than a chiton. At least Laurent planned accordingly, as he’s now sporting breeches and a fluffy cloak.

Once the silence has stretched for a few minutes longer, Laurent simply sighs and decides to break the tension, “I cannot help but notice you have carried a package with you. One you’ve been fumbling for the past minutes. If it is another gift, Damen, then go ahead. I love to be spoiled.” As his voice goes from smug to smooth, he adds, “And I loved the last one immensely.”

That’s what does it for Damen. He thrusts the gift in front of him, far less delicate than he had planned, palms up as if to present it as an offering. Laurent takes it in his own hands, weighs it, and starts to unravel the silk from around the elongated shape resting inside. Damen holds his breath.

Laurent is silent and still. For a second, Damen is afraid he did something wrong, and he’s starting to apologize, but the most beautiful smile he has ever seen blooms on Laurent’s lips, and he falls short on words.

“Damen, it’s… it’s wonderful. I cannot believe you would do that for me.” Laurent is holding a rapier. Fine and elegant, the sword reflects moonbeams upon him, making the gold of Laurent’s hair shine just as much as the gold on its guard. Damen had it designed to represent waves, circling around in an infinite loop. “How did you know…”

Laurent doesn’t finish his sentence, but Damen thinks he can sense where this is going, so he replies anyway. “About your affection for swords? One, you’re a prince, and though our realms may be on different planes altogether, I’m sure you have been trained in the martial arts as much as I have. Two, you always carry either a knife or a sword around already, even though there is no need to, and you tend to cradle it around or smudge your fingers against it far too often. So either you are very nervous and think you are in great danger here, or you just really like the feel of a blade near you. I preferred to go with the second option.”

“And to say when I was watching you from afar, I thought you were just a brute without brains.” Damen touches a hand to his heart, eyes going wide as he feigns horror at Laurent’s words. “I know better now, don’t worry.”

Damen smiles softly at the addition, and watches as Laurent strokes the blade, the guard, the ornaments, metal dazzling in the moonlight, immeasurable happiness in the merman’s eyes.

“Do you not want to know what it’s made of?” Damen asks, eager, and of course Laurent indulges him, still looking at the gift.

“What is it made of?” And in his voice there is awe at the craftsmanship, Damen can hear it. He is ready to bet that when Laurent hears what Damen says next, the surprise will be greater still.

“The guard is made of gold. But the blade… the blade is a platinum alloy, to make sure it does not rust at all, once you get back at sea. And they covered it in a sealant, just in case.”

Damen feels so proud of himself. But once he looks at Laurent, what he finds there isn’t what he was expecting. There is melancholy in his icy eyes now, sadness even, and he isn’t sure about what triggered it, but he feels like he offended him anyway.

“Once I go back…” Laurent whispers, scoffing. “Well, then.” And Damen suddenly understands where he went wrong.

Laurent has risen, and he’s shedding his clothes, looking ahead and at the sea as he walks towards the waves, unwavering, rapier in hand.

“Laurent, wait!” Damen tries, but the merman doesn’t stop. It might be that the moon is playing tricks on him, but Damen even thinks he accelerates.

He catches up in no time, with no effort at all, but still as he touches Laurent’s shoulder and turns him around gently, his heart is hammering in his chest, in his throat. “Laurent, that’s not what I meant, you must know that’s not what I meant.”

The reply is cold and hurt at the same time. Damen feels something churn in his stomach, something like guilt, for putting such a sour look on such pretty face. “But I don’t, Damianos. That’s quite the problem, isn’t it?”

Damen steels his resolve then and there. Looking at this man he felt he wrecked in just a few words. This man he obsessed over as a kid, and couldn’t get out of his head either as an adult. He looks at Laurent, and he sees the ocean in all its power and glory, in all its beauty too, but also in its secrecy and fragileness. He kneels.

“Laurent. I hoped to do this another way, another time maybe, but I guess we’re doing this now. I’ve been courting you for the past few weeks now, and I am not afraid to admit I have nursed affection for you for longer still. I hoped to gift you this sword so you could remember me by, no matter what your decision was, but I am aware I ought to have asked the question first.”

Laurent is looking at him now, eyes wide and rapier at his side, whilst his other hand rests into Damen’s.

“Will you stay? I am not asking you to marry me, or even to return the love I feel for you, but I wish you would consider remaining on land, coming to know me more. For I wish nothing more but for you to never leave my side.”

Silence. Damen gulps. And starts rambling. “I mean you don’t even have to stay with me if you do not wish to. You could travel over Akielos if you wanted to, and I could show you Ios maybe, and…”

He feels lips press on his. Damen freezes as Laurent kisses him, and only starts to reciprocate when Laurent breaks it.

“Shut up, idiot.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Maybe,” Laurent retorts, but he’s grinning and no longer walking towards the ocean, so all in all, Damen thinks he wins. “Now get up, kissing in this position really isn’t the most comfortable.”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. In fact, once he’s back on his feet, Damen swipes Laurent up and twirls him around, before putting him back down, and kissing him with all the despair and worry and frustration and love he has accumulated, pouring his very being into this moment.

They keep kissing for a while longer, listening to the waves crashing on the shore, Damen initiating Laurent to the constellations, and then Laurent challenges him to a sword fight, which he eagerly accepts. They end up rolling in the sand, kissing some more.

*

When Damen wakes up the next morning, alone in bed, there is a bouquet of wild flowers waiting for him, as well as a necklace with a blue stone that looks suspiciously like a scale. Damen smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr [here](http://kiseopingu.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I thrive on comments, so don't hesitate to scream at me about your thoughts and feelings!  
> I also have a lot of headcanons for this AU (most of them Auguste based, strangely) so hit me up with those here or on Tumblr, I'd love to discuss them with you all!


End file.
